


A meeting of priests

by krikr



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: AU, F/M, Femdom, sex between priests, smut ensues, the inquisitor meets the boy-king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 05:45:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19846819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikr/pseuds/krikr
Summary: The Scarlet Crusade received a letter, inviting them to join the Alliance. Much to her chagrin, Sally Whitemane isn't in a position to refuse such an offer, but she still has to meet with King Anduin Wrynn in Stormwind to talk about the finer points. She's heard plenty of good thing about the young king, amongst them that's particularly handsome.





	A meeting of priests

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that floated in mind for a while, and took my lazy ass forever to write. I hope you like it.

"Have a good day, miss!"  
One of the gnomes at the station's door told her as she passed by her.  
Whitemane scoffed, not even sparing them a glance as she left them and their train behind.  
She couldn't deny their inventions were useful, but she'd have almost preferred not dealing with gnomes at all, even if it meant taking much longer to reach Stormwind. Unfortunately for her, she was on an important mission for the Scarlet Crusade (a vital one, even, as loathe as she was to admit it) so she had been forced to swallow her disdain for the half-humans and contain her scorn, and simply sneered at the gnomes as she stepped into the open air of Stormwind.

“I'll go warn the king of your arrival. He'll meet you in the Cathedral in two hours, so you can walk around town as long as you're there on time.” her travelling companion told her before bolting off, running in the direction of the castle, without even leaving Whitemane the time to scoff at her for her insolence.

Whitemane had never been in Stormwind in her life, but from what she had been told of it when she was a little girl, the current city lived up to the tales. The two buildings dominating the skyline, visible from nearly anywhere in the city where the Cathedral's spire and the King's castle's towers, and both were made of white stone, giving them a pleasant look. Even the dwarf district was beautiful, she had to admit.

Still, she wasn't there to sightsee, even if she had been given the time to do so, and although she took a glance around her every now and then, she kept her eyes on her objective: the Cathedral of Stormwind, where was to meet with King Anduin Wrynn in two hours.

 _It had happened four days ago, when a messenger had knocked at the door of the monastery. Since she wasn't armed, was wearing a Stormwind tabard and was proclaiming she only came to deliver a very important message, showing the seal of the Wrynn family, she had been let in and guided to Whitemane, the leader of the Scarlet Crusade._  
_Well, of what was left of it, anyway; and the messenger saw as much, seeing many tables unoccupied, training dummies not being hit, racks full of unused weapons, and so on, all marks of the toll that they had to pay through the years._  
_After nearly fifteen years fighting the Scourge, or Forsaken as they called themselves, very little was left of the surviving members of Lordaeron, and that was not counting the hundreds that had died had Tyr's Hand or in the frozen wastes of Northrend._  
_While they had been nearly two thousand when lord Garithos had died, they were now reduced to barely more than a hundred bodies, forced to relocate entirely within the Monastery and its gardens._

_Truly, while Whitemane would never admit it, the Alliance's assault on the Undercity was a blessing of the Light itself, for neither she nor anyone of the Crusade's leaders had an idea of how much longer they could hold out. At the very least months, but probably barely a year, or maybe two at most, before they'd disappear after one Horde assault too many. And that was if they didn't destroy each other into a civil war, suspecting each other of being a Dreadlord in disguise, or that one of their lesser members was._

_So, seeing what had one day been the capital of Lordaeron reduced to a plagued ruin was, while upsetting, also a huge relief to them, since it meant that nearly all Horde forces had fled to who knew where. It had still left the question of the Crusade's manpower, their lack of farmers, blacksmiths, carpenters, and everything needed to maintain such an organization._

_When the messenger had presented her letter, bearing the seal of the Wrynn family, Whitemane had been split between rejoicing and throwing it into the fire._  
_The letter had been polite to a fault and, after the usual platitudes, went into the subject rather directly:_  
_The Scarlet Crusade was invited to rejoin the Alliance._  
_There was more flourish to it, of course; how grateful Anduin was that there were still living citizens of Lordaeron, how he admired their determination and their survival against so difficult odds for years, and so on, but the gist of it was that they were invited to rejoin the Alliance, and they would be helped in resettling and rebuilding Lordaeron. They were free to refuse, of course, and Anduin had added that he wouldn't fault them if they did not want to associate with the Alliance after so long, but he sincerely hoped they could go forward together._  
_If the Crusade agreed to rejoin the Alliance, the messenger would return to Stormwind with Whitemane, where she would negotiate with king Anduin the exact terms of what such a unification entailed._  
_If they refused, well, he wished them the best luck, and the messenger would return alone._

_Try as she might, and as much as her pride commanded her to refuse this invitation from those unworthy, unclean and traitors, Sally hadn't even needed to converse with the other leaders to know they would accept, for they were in no position to refuse such an offer. So, only a few hours later, dressed in travelling clothes, a sack with her inquisitorial garb on her back, she had left the monastery._

_They had been in sight of the capital for only a few minutes, but Sally had felt a pang of sadness and rage as the blasted, plagued ruins were in view. She had spent only a few months in the capital, training to be a priestess of the Light, and it had been years ago, but it was still her capital._  
_She had a similar feeling when they had, on the horse the messenger had been given, passed in view of Hillsbrad three days later, albeit with a much greater rage than sadness. Her place of birth, her home... plagued so much the inhabitants, some of the buildings themselves had been reduced to slime... She wanted nothing more than to burn every single undead and anyone who had ever allied or even talked, with them._

 _The rest of the trip had been long, taking a bit over two weeks, but uneventful. They had gone straight through the Arathi highlands, not stopping there, to the Wetlands, north to south._  
_She had loathed the swamps of the Wetlands, with slimes, mosquitoes, roads that were barely more stable than the mud on the sides..._  
_In Loch Modan, the messenger's horse had been traded for a pair of rams to a dwarven outpost, and they had been accompanied by a dwarf patroller to Ironforge._  
_Through Dun Morog, and its ever snowy weather, Sally had tried to hide her shivering, to no avail. Being a native of Lordaeron, she was unaccustomed to snow, so such an abundance of it was not something she could handle well._

 _She had breathed a sigh of relief when entering the dwarves' capital, her body smoking as the hotness of the city evaporated the water on her._  
_Although she had liked the temperature, she had rather disliked the architecture and the stone roof ever-present above her._  
_Then, to the gnome district, the Deep Run Tram, and then, Stormwind, where she was now._

She wouldn't have time to sightsee, for with only two hours to meet the King, she would just have enough time to clean and prepare herself.

She entered into one of the first inns she saw in the Cathedral's Quarter.  
“I'd like a room, and a bath, quickly. Only for an hour or two.” she said tersely.  
“Good afternoon to you too, my lady.” The innkeeper, a lean man with greying hair, replied flatly. “That'll be ten silvers. Twenty if you want the bath right now.”

Silver; gold... payment. It had almost become a foreign concept to Sally, living within the close organisation, the community even, that had become the Monastery. Still, she pulled her coins out of her pockets, coins that had been unused in nearly fifteen years, and counted.  
Two golds, five silvers, and sixty-six coppers. Her family's entire livesavings before the Scourge hit Lordaeron.

She stared at the coins in her hand for a few seconds, before giving the man one of her gold pieces.  
“Thank you, my lady.” The innkeeper smiled, quickly giving her her change and handing her a key. “First floor, second room on the right, there's a green 3 on the door. I'll have the bath brought immediately.”  
“I hope so.” Sally replied, but her usual haughtiness wasn't into it. She was still looking at the money in her hands.

Shaking her head, she put the pieces back in her pouch and climbed upstairs.

The room was... normal, she supposed. Like most aspects of 'normal' civilisation, Sally hadn't been able to experience them in more than fifteen years. Hearing the sound of the street outside, of people going on about their life, was different.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by a knock on the door.  
“Bathtub, my lady.” the innkeeper's voice peered through the door.  
“Come in, then.” she scoffed, turning around.  
"Thank you. Water will be there shortly.”

The man entered, setting up a bronze bathtub half-full of steaming, almost boiling water. He was holding the bathtub with thick cloth on his hands.  
“Just knock on it twice if something isn't to your liking.” he explained. With how it would resonate, he was bound to hear it from anywhere inside the inn.  
“Twice?”  
“So you don't accidentally call me every time you move.” he explained, rolling his eyes.  
He left and returned multiple times, carrying water to fill the bathtub with and, on his last trip, a large towel, on which rested cloths and soaps for washing, along with some scented oils. She had apparently chosen a very fine establishment to prepare herself.

* * *

In the end, she hadn't needed to call the innkeeper for more, as what he had provided proved quite enough to clean herself of the grime of travelling, of the strange odour of the Deep Run Tram, and make herself presentable. 

She had heard king Anduin was a young, handsome man. Much younger than her, even, so she might as well use all the advantages she could. Not that she'd have needed a particular reason to wear her inquisitorial garb (which, as she had been told by some courageous members, was more 'alluring' than normal.)

Two hours after her arrival in Stormwind, the woman who stepped into the Cathedral looked radically different from the woman who had left the Deep Run Tram hours ago.  
Gone were the grime of travel, the dirt of sleeping on the floor on the side of the road,  
Sally Whitemane, Grand Inquisitor of the Scarlet Crusade, was here.

And the blond, handsome boy wearing those refined clothes was...  
it couldn't be the King, could he? He was too young, barely an adult. But if he was, he was definitely handsome, and the rumours didn't do him justice. She could do worse than working alongside him.

“King Wrynn.” she said, trying to inject some warmth or at least tone down her hostility.  
“It is I, yes. And you are Inquisitor Whitemane, I suppose?”  
A perfect gentleman, that boy, his eyes had barely wondered over her body when he had gotten up.  
“Yes, I am her.” Sally nodded.  
“The Cathedral is beautiful. I thought appropriate two servants of the Light would meet here, rather than at the palace.” he explained.  
Indeed. Viewed from the inside, the Cathedral was a work of art, the daylight entering it, lighting nearly every corner of white stone, the murals and windows depicting angels, or pious warriors. Most of the light fell onto the altar, visible from nearly everywhere within the church.  
“If I might be so bold, king Wrynn. I would suggest we retire to a more... private, place.”  
Being submissive to someone else rattled her, and she was twice his age. That'd have to change.  
“A brilliant idea.” Anduin nodded, starting to walk. “And please, 'Wrynn', or 'King Anduin'.” he asked of her. “King Wrynn was how my father was called.”  
“If you wish so, King Anduin.” She respectfully replied.

They walked in silence to one of the secluded rooms. Initially for lectures, meditations or simply rest for the priests, it had been arranged with a table, two ornate chairs, a few papers, ink, pen, and wine with two glasses.  
“I thought better to write down what we'll speak of today.” He explained as they sat. “Would you like a drink?”  
“Yes, please.” she nodded, watching him with interest in her eyes.  
Anduin nodded, opening the bottle and pouring the wine in their glasses.  
“I am eternally pleased to see you hear, Inquisitor.” he said after a sip. “I know relations between the Scarlet Crusade and the Alliance have been... strained for the past decade, but now that the Forsaken have fled Lordaeron, I thought it was the right time to try to renew contact.”  
Sally nodded. Yes, he was definitively a handsome young man, whom she didn't mind serving under, or having fun with if it ever got to that.

The wine tasted good as well, but Sally's experience was limited to the vintage grown and produced by the Scarlet Monastery.  
“Thank you for the wine.”  
“I'm pleased you like it.” he nodded, grabbing a pen. “Now, since you've come to meet me, is it safe to assume that...”  
“That I accept your offer, and the Scarlet Crusade will join the Alliance?” Sally smirked, toying with her glass. “Yes, it is true. However, we will require some compensations. We have been fighting the Scourge...”  
“The Forsaken.”  
“They're one and the same, no matter who leads them.” she scoffed. “We've been fighting them for a decade and a half, and as such we are severely short on manpower, craftsmen,... many things.” She leaned forward toward the king. While her outfit didn't provide cleavage for him to stare into, it still quite nicely hugged her curvy figure, which she hoped would convince him to be more agreeable.  
“So we'll need lands, men, resources, help in clearing the plague from our kingdom which will belong to us alone.” she listed, smirking. “But, above all, we'll require an acknowledgement, a confession from yourself, that...”  
“... that we were wrong to distrust and suspect you. Of course, would a private one do, or would you want it public?.”

“And for... I'm sorry?”  
She had expected him to balk at the idea, to refuse, to say that he hadn't been wrong at the time, or that it was below him to do so, especially since he would be her equal as king.  
She had not expected him to so readily accept, and to sound so earnest in his words.  
The king looked up from his paper, sighing.  
“You were right to tell us hat the Forsaken were no different than the Scourge, we were wrong to shun you for so long, and I vow to do whatever I can to make amends for the way we treated you.”  
“Whatever you can?” she smirked. Oh, this was proving so much better than she'd hoped.  
“Within reasons.” he quickly added, looking a mix of worried and surprised by her eager gaze on his body. “But yes, I will personally try to make it up to you. If you want lands, help, resources, I'll grant them in any way I can.”

Sally could tell from his gaze that he was worried she'd ask too much of him, she laughed.  
“Do not worry, king Anduin, I will not ask you to tax your kingdom more than you deem it necessary. I do not expect a full public apology in front of your entire kingdom either. A simple mention that we valiantly fought alone against the Scourge to reclaim our homeland for fifteen years should be enough.” she reassured him, a soft smile on her lips.  
“I do, however, expect something from you personally.” she continued, pulling her chair back, sipping her wine. “Pour me another glass for a start, please.”  
“With pleasure.” he nodded, looking slightly lost, yet eager to please.  
  
“So polite, so well-behaved.” she chuckled. “You were taught to always be courteous and never leave a lady waiting, weren't you, boy?”  
Anduin didn't comment on the fact that she had ditched his title to address him, clearly understanding that, whatever she was to ask of him, it had entirely left the norm of expected or appropriate.  
“Indeed, Inquisitor.”  
“Mm... I love when you call me that, boy. But I do think that, for what I have planned for you, calling me 'Mistress' would be better, wouldn't you agree?”  
“I would need to know what you plan us on doing here, In... Mistress.”  
“So nice, so cute.” she chuckled.  
His blonde hair framed a face she'd have called angelic in its perfection, and from what she could guess of his body, he seemed equally aesthetically pleasing to watch on that front as well.  
“We won't leave this room until I'm fully satisfied with your work.”  
“Which will be, mistress?”

Sally pulled her chair further back, staying at arm's length of the wine, spreading her legs, hands briefly roaming on her thighs.  
“Get on your knees, let's see how well you can service a woman, boy.”  
“Yes, Mistress.” Anduin smiled, getting up from his chair and walking around the table, kneeling between Sally's legs.  
His hands began roaming over her legs, caressing her thighs, stroking them as he peppered them with kisses, each contact of his lips against her skin feeling like a pleasuring fire to the Inquisitor.  
“Not bad so far, boy.” Sally nodded, encouraging him.  
Anduin smiled, moving his head closer to her crotch, pushing her tabard over her left leg. He could see the faint outline of her sex through the leotard.  
“You are a naughty woman, mistress.” he smiled.  
“Indeed, I am a vile temptress, and it seems you succumbed to my charms, boy.” she smirked, taking a deeper breath, shivering in pleasure.  
The boy knew what it was doing, and it had been a long time since she had had such a lover. There were very few in the Crusade she had given such an honour.  
She could feel his hot breath through the cloth of her leotard, teasing her pussy, feeling herself get wet from it, her breath quickening.  
She sipped from her glass, smiling, filling it again. She hadn't had much wine in years, and it, with the excitement of being serviced by such a handsome young man, by a king no less!, combined to make her feel light-headed.

She clicked her heels on the stone floor.  
“We do not have all day, boy, as much as I'd like to take my time savouring you.” she said tersely, albeit her voice not entirely devoid of fondness.  
He really was a nice plaything.  
“Yes, mistress.” the king smiled, pulling her leotard to the side, his lips touching her sex with a kiss, his tongue lapping over her wet folds.  
Her hand took a hold of his hair, his blonde strands, as she took another deep breath, letting out a pleasured sigh as the boy-king's tongue got to work, lapping and licking her fold.  
“N... not bad, boy.” she breathed out, hiking a leg up over his shoulder, a heeled boot resting on his back.  
She took another sip from her glass, it was all so delightfully sinful!  
Anduin smiled against her crotch, pulling back long enough to breathe before diving back in, tongue slowly running over her folds, careful to not leave an inch unlicked, tongue tasting her wetness, feeling the cloth of her leotard against his cheek as he dove in, doing his best to pleasure the white-haired woman above him.  
Sally couldn't hold mack the small whimpers and spasms of pleasure rocking through her, a hand firmly in his hair as she took another gulp of wine.  
“T.. truly, a good work, boy.”  
Anduin smiled, she could feel his lips curl against her vagina, feel his nose flick her clit, sending another wave of pleasure through her, her legs twitching, his head sandwiched between her thighs.

Speaking of thighs, Anduin had not forgotten them, and while his mouth and tongue were busy with her throbbing, quivering sex, his hands held her legs, lovingly caressing them.  
Then his tongue flicked her clit.  
“Ah!~” she exclaimed, moaning, chuckling, feeling another gush of wetness flowing against his mouth. By the Light, the boy was good, she could feel her orgasm coming soon.  
“Truly, you have a golden tongue, boy.” she chuckled.  
She could feel beads of sweat pearling against her forehead as she tried to keep her composure.  
“I do my best to please, Mistress.” he chuckled, pulling back.

The sudden absence of a warm mouth against her crotch allowed the cooler air to brush against her engorged clit, pulling another whimper out of Sally, to her displeasure.  
And then Anduin's mouth was back on her pussy, and he resumed his licking.  
For minutes on it continued so, with Anduin's skilled tongue running over her folds, but never quite entering her vagina, bringing Sally to heights of pleasure, feeling all so close to cumming...  
When his tongue entered her cunt, she came undone.  
Wrapping her legs around his head, gripping his hair so tightly her knuckled paled, as she came, a flood of her juices, flowing against his face, his mouth, his nose...  
and then he lightly bit her clit, nibbling it between his teeth.  
Another orgasm tore through her immediately after the first one, another spurt of her juices on his face.  
“By the Light!” she screamed.

When her orgasm subsided, she was panting, sweating, and slowly parted her legs again, letting him pull away.  
His face was glistening in her juices, and he was licking his lips eagerly, a sort of fire in his eyes.  
“I take it you were pleased, Mistress?” he asked.  
And at this moment, she could have sworn he smirked, and his smile turned smug for an instant.  
“I did. Very much, boy.” Really, there was no point in denying it now. “You did a splendid job of pleasuring me, and I think I will greatly enjoy rejoining the Alliance if all our meetings turn out like this one.”

Her breath was still short, her face flushed, hair clinging to her face.  
It would take her some time to compose herself enough.  
The king smiled, returning to his seat, finishing his glass, the almost empty bottle rattling as he put it back on the table.  
While she regained her breathe, put her leotard and tabard back into place, he went over his note, pushing them toward her.  
“Do you think it is a fair deal,?” he asked her, his tone back to his placid, helpful self it had been before the meeting... derailed.  
“It... it does.” she nodded, skimming through them.  
It was barely a page, and a relatively short list, but it covered all that she had asked.

Anduin got up, offering her his hand.  
“If I may invite you to the palace for the night, then? We could have one of our mage teleport you back to Lordaeron in the morning.”  
“How thoughtful of you, my king.” she smiled, getting up, acepting his hand with a curtly nod. “But I do feel we have more to discuss privately, such as your study of the Light. Perhaps I could tutor you in that area.”  
“That would be an honour.” Anduin Wrynn, smirked. “And perhaps you could return the favour.”

He would really be an interesting king to have, she mused.


End file.
